


Advent 2019

by Batik



Series: Advent 2019 [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Advent Calendar, Double Penetration, Drunk Sex, Edging, M/M, Masturbation, Mpreg, Panties, Pearl Necklace, Public Sex, Rimming, Sex Tapes, Sex Toys, Spanking, Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:16:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 12,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21636847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batik/pseuds/Batik
Summary: Merry Christmas-themed smut!Update, December 2020:I started these Advent fics in 2019 but didn't finish all of the prompts. I'm not promising to finish all of them this year, but I'll do what I can — even if it turns out to be only the one I'm about to post.Chapter 12now has a fill.
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Series: Advent 2019 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559617
Comments: 31
Kudos: 114





	1. Day 1 — Masturbation

**Author's Note:**

> For all the Christmases I've been in fandom, I've never tried an Advent calendar fic-prompt effort. I have a hard enough time finding writing time when the holidays _aren't_ in the mix. But [zhenyabest](https://zhenyabest.tumblr.com/about) on Tumblr came up with [this prompt list](https://zhenyabest.tumblr.com/post/189301306079/kinky-advent-prompts) and I was intrigued and tempted. So, here I am. I'm not going to guarantee that I'll provide a fic for each of the 25 days, in part because I'm not sure I'm capable of writing some of the prompts and in part because I want this to remain a fun, festive thing. But ... here we go!
> 
> As usual, this is called "fic" because it is fictional, not biographical.
> 
> As usual, much thanks to [VelvetPaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelvetPaw). And much thanks to SVoD, who has been great at helping me quickly figure out where to take a prompt when the only thing standing in the way of my writing was the lack of an idea.

Sid wasn’t really invested in the movie, some Hallmark Channel holiday thing about a down-on-Christmas woman who was about to have her entire bah-humbug world view changed by the arrival of the hot-but-harmless new neighbor.

The movie wasn’t stunning, and Sid really should find something else to do with his morning. But the dude was hot — not terribly jacked but fit enough, with an attractive face and hair just long enough to fall appealingly across his forehead and into his eyes a bit.

Sid pressed his palm against his dick through his sweatpants, just to judge. Deciding there was enough going on that he could work with it, he manspread a bit farther into his slouch into the corner of the sectional and eased his fingers under the waistband and down, wrapping slightly cool fingers around his still mostly soft dick and squeezing before giving a tug.

It wasn’t great, the faint sheen of sweat resulting from the aptly named pants making his skin sticky rather than slippery. Whatever. He’d manage. 

He pumped a few more times, his dick growing firmer as the head just above his curled fist enjoyed the soft friction of fleece. The guy on the TV was wearing a red and black plaid flannel shirt that molded attractively to his pecs and Sid imagined that he could see the outline of hard nipples distorting the smooth lay of the fabric. He couldn’t — this was nothing if not a G-rated flick — but he could imagine it. Imagine that the guy was looking at him and getting turned on by what he saw. 

Whatever worked — and it definitely worked. Well, well enough. When he finally was hard enough that his dick was bumping against scratchy elastic instead of fleece, Sid used his free hand to pry his waistband up and down, shifting and shoving until his pants were snugly tucked under the curve of his ass. He sucked in a breath in protest as room-temperature air hit his dick, deceptively cool against the overheated skin. 

A few more tugs now that he was free and Sid let his eyes slide closed, letting his imagination carry him along when his arousal easily surpassed the tame embrace the couple was sharing on-screen.

He was riding that line, turned on enough that he didn’t want to stop — he _really_ didn’t want to stop — but not close enough that he could topple over the edge. He wasn’t even trying to prolong things. He just wanted to get off. 

In his mind’s eye, he stroked himself as the guy — Noel, the character’s name was Noel, because _of course_ it was — unbuttoned and peeled off his shirt. Sid stroked harder but went nowhere fast.

Maybe he should have gone upstairs, starfished on his bed, behind the locked door. Not that he really had to worry about anyone walking in on him in his den, not when they had to get past the gate and the locked front door. Only a few guys had the ability to do that and none of them was likely to show up without at least a heads-up text from the driveway.

Upstairs he would have had lube; maybe that’s what was missing.

Sid paused his steady stroking long enough to lick at his palm and then spit in it — it would have to do; he wasn’t inclined at this point to make his way upstairs.

Hand back in place on his dick, he let his eyes close again, imagining Noel shucking his jeans, naked now except for a Santa hat and a pair of wooly red socks. Sid wasn’t usually a leave-your-socks-on kinda guy, but the socks and the hat seemed to be a matched set so he let it go. 

Still, he groaned in frustration that simply imagining Noel standing over him, watching him, clearly aroused himself, wasn’t getting him there. Maybe if Noel was fucking him, sliding into his ass, hot and hard. Maybe a little bigger, thicker, stretching Sid a little more. 

Maybe if Noel had come in his ass but refused to let Sid come, holding him on the edge as he moaned appreciatively before licking at Sid’s hole and pressing his own come back inside where it was leaking out.

Maybe if Sid were fucking into Noel, if he were the one tasting his own come as he licked over that now puffy pink pucker and slid his tongue in as far as he could reach. 

Maybe if … fuck. Maybe if Sid got his head in the game and focused on one mental image instead of bouncing all over the place like some sort of kink bounce-house. What was working for him?

Sid spit into his palm again — spit really didn’t maintain its slide for any length of time, the way lube did — took a deep, steadying breath and focused.

Focused on tightening his abdominals as he lightly thrust up into his hand, letting the flex and release of his muscles do the work instead of any real movement of his hips. Focused on the long, lean line of a strong back and the generous curve of a firm ass.

Maybe Noel played hockey, because that was definitely a hockey player’s ass under his palms, his fingers prying apart the cheeks so he could press the head of his dick against the tight furl, watch it give way and envelop him as he sunk in.

Sid grasped at the solid body in front of him, thumbs pressing into pillowy glutes, fingers curling around hips and digging into pelvic bone.

“Sid,” Noel gasped, turning his dark head to look over his shoulder and meet Sid’s eyes, just as Sid registered a familiar accent in that one syllable.

“Geno?” he said aloud as his orgasm shuddered through him, coating his stomach and chest with long strips of his release. He curled in on himself and rode the wave.

It’s not like Noel and Holly were going to tell.


	2. Day 2 — tipsy/drunk sex

“C’mon, G. Just let me …”

“Have all night, babe,” Geno said, his tone light. “No need for hurry.”

“But,” Sid slurred into Geno’s shoulder. “I really want …”

“I’m know, babe,” Geno soothed, long fingers tracing down Sid’s back. “Me, too. Always want. But would be rude, leave guests all alone, go upstairs.” 

“They could go home,” Sid said, rocking his forehead into Geno’s chest and flinging his arm around G’s neck to run his fingers through the short hairs there. “Or we could go in the kitchen! Or the laundry room, eh?” He lifted his head and beamed at Geno, clearly impressed with his own brilliance.

“OK, sure. Let’s go to the kitchen, babe,” Geno said, reaching up to disentangle Sid’s hand from the back of his neck and kissing Sid’s knuckles before nudging him a bit more upright and in the right direction. He then wrapped an arm around Sid’s waist, pulling him close to his side as Sid wobbled a bit. He hoped Sid would take it as a gesture of affection rather than the necessity it was.

They made it down the thankfully empty hall to the kitchen with no one spotting them, only for Tanger to be almost collide with them as they got to the kitchen door. Tanger looked like he was about to say something — maybe about Sid and Geno’s apparently open display of affection in the team’s vicinity — before a second glance had him pausing, a hand on Sid’s shoulder and eyes raised to meet Geno’s.

“What’s up, guys?” he asked, eyebrows rising as he looked more closely at Sid’s face.

“Shhh,” Sid shushed. “We’re sneaking off to the kitchen. Don’t tell anyone.”

Tanger’s eyebrows rose higher as he shot a questioning look at Geno.

“Is he …?” 

“Yes,” Geno said, freeing one hand from Sid’s. “Drink vodka, cranberry, like normal. Should be fine. But someone bring Devil’s Springs. Twice as strong as Smirnoff, Grey Goose.”

“Not cool, man,” Tanger said. “You need any help or can I go start planning some bag skates for someone?”

“We’re OK,” Geno said. “Gonna get some water, maybe some protein. Try to minimize damage.”

“No, Geee-nooo,” Sid spoke up. “I was gonna —”

“You’re just say your mouth dry,” Geno cut in before Sid could be anymore indiscreet. “We get water, make it better.”

“Ohhh, right,” Sid nodded, his head bobbing exaggeratedly and in no particular direction, though presumably in agreement. “A dry mouth makes it hard to swallow —”

“Food,” Geno cut in again. “Hard to swallow food when mouth dry.”

“And your —” 

“Yes, I’m hungry. Come on, Sid,” Geno said, catching Tanger’s eye and jerking his head back toward the den and the rest of the team.

Once Geno was sure they were alone — the kitchen was, thankfully, empty and Geno could hear Tanger making threats in the den — he grabbed a bottled water off of the counter and sat Sid in a chair at the little table in the corner. then he kneeled in front of him and cupped his jaw in his hand.

“No, G,” Sid said. “We’re backwards. I wanna blow you. You said …”

“I say we have all night, Sid. No rush,” Geno replied. “I say you should drink water.”

“Don’t need water,” Sid pouted. “Need you.” 

“Hard to blow me if you thirsty, Sid,” Geno said. “Just drink some water, OK?” 

“OK,” Sid finally agreed, his face scrunching up into something that looked like a stroke symptom. Geno has a split second of wondering if he should holler for Tanger to call 911 before he realized that look apparently was just Sid’s come-hither face on 160 proof vodka. He was willing to admit pretty much all of Sid’s looks worked for him. An embarrassing amount. But he really needed never to see that exact face ever again. “Then I’m gonna blow you … soooo good. It’ll be so ... wet.”

“Yes, it will,” Geno agreed, lifting the uncapped bottle to Sid’s lips. “So good. Now drink. Then we get you some food.”

Sid was just finishing the last of the water when Tanger popped his head back in the kitchen.

“I have bag skate all set and strongly encouraged everyone to call it a night,” he said. “I’ll make sure the rookies don’t try to camp out here and lock up on my way out. Take care of our boy.”

“Thanks, Kris,” Geno said. He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t want to be rude to their guests, but there was some relief in not having to take care of Sid _and_ play host.

Of course, Sid might have been trashed well beyond anything he normally allowed himself but, just like during a game, he had a fixation and no amount of alcohol was going to make him drop it anytime soon.

“They’re gone,” Sid practically crowed, grin wide. “Now it’s not rude. We can go upstairs and I can blow you. See?” Sid licked his lips showily — and sloppily, and Geno instinctively pulled back just a bit. Just, no. “My mouth’s really wet now. You’ll slide down so good.”

“Sid,” Geno sighed. “OK, sure. Let’s go upstairs, go to bed.”

“And I can blow you.”

“OK, we go to bed and you can blow me,” Geno said agreeably, standing and helping Sid to his feet.

Sid swayed and Geno steadied him before grabbing another bottle of water and guiding both of them carefully through the house and to the first-floor guest room. No way he was going to try to get Sid up a flight of stairs right now. 

A lot of fumbling as they got undressed — Sid’s “helping” to hurry the process actually slowing things down substantially — and the pair of them climbed into bed, the thick comforter cool against bare skin as they slid together and Geno tucked Sid’s head into his chest, petting down the knobs of his spine.

“Feel so good, babe,” he said. “Could just curl up, sleep.”

“Gonna blow you,” Sid said for the — well, Geno had lost count of how many that was for the evening. “That’ll feel good, too.” 

‘I know it will, babe,” Geno murmured. “Relax, though. Still have time.”

“OK, but I’m still gonna blow …”

Geno felt Sid melt into his hold as his words faded, but he counted to 10 in English and then to _desyat_ in Russian — just for good measure — before shifting enough to be sure Sid was asleep. 

“Good night, _lyubov_,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into Sid’s hair.

∞ ∞ ∞

Sid woke to sunlight peeking around the edges of the curtains and blinked as he took in his surroundings.

“Good morning. How you feel?” Geno asked, shifting a bit to brace his elbow on his pillow and his head in his palm.

"Uh, a bit of a headache but ... OK, I think?” Sid said, his words coming out thick and sounding just as much like a question as a statement. “Why are we in here instead of our room?”

“You a bit wobble last night,” Geno said. “Safer here. Enough Pens break on ice without you break on fall down stairs.”

“God,” Sid said. “Was I that bad? _How_ was I that bad?” 

“Vodka,” Geno said. “Too strong.” 

“Did I embarrass myself?” Sid asked. “God, did the team see? They know not to put that shit on Instagram, right?!”

“No, not embarrass,” Geno assured him, ignoring the too-fresh, too-shudder-inducing memories of the love of his life trying to drunk-flirt with him. “Team leave early, we come to bed. Is fine.”

“OK,” Sid said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Thank goodness for that. ... Wait. Did we, uh, _do_ anything last night? I … I think I remember wanting to blow you, but I … don’t remember doing it? My jaw doesn’t feel like I did it.”

“‘Cause you didn’t, babe,” Geno said, soothing his free hand over Sid's bare shoulder. “Not gonna let you do when you can’t consent. Even if you repeat ‘wanna blow you’ so much I lose count.”

“Fuck,” Sid said. “I’m sorry. … I could … make it up to you now.” 

“Babe,” Geno said. “Not gonna say no now that you sober, but maybe we brush teeth, get you aspirin first, just in case.” 

“And breakfast? I’m starving,” Sid said, a slow grin taking over his face before he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Bacon and eggs for breakfast — and then a nice Russian dessert!”

“I like way you plan breakfast menu,” Geno said. “So much better than sad chicken and pasta.”

“I know, I know,” Sid laughed, only wincing a bit at the sudden movement. “Because you’re on the menu and you're the best.”

“I am,” Geno said, laughing as he rolled until he had one leg thrown over Sid’s thigh.

“Seriously, though,” Sid said. “Thanks for looking out for me last night. And for not taking advantage of me — even if I’m always going to be a pretty sure thing for you.” 

“You welcome,” Geno said softly. “I always take care of you. And like I’m say last night. We have time. And you’re never not be worth the wait.”


	3. Day 3 — virginity, losing virginity, slutty virgin

“Congrats, Captain. You’ve done it again,” Tanger said.

“What have I done?” Sid asked, looking up from where he was wrapping tape around his socks as the team prepped for practice.

“You’ve managed to convince another rookie beat reporter that you have no life outside of hockey,” Tanger said. “I’m not sure what you said this time, but the article made it sound like you’re Steve Carell in ‘The Forty-Year-Old Virgin’. Living a solitary life with only your skates, sticks and pucks for company.”

“More like Pope Sid,” Dumo chimed in. “Taking a vow of celibacy until you retire so you can focus everything on the religion of hockey.”

“That guy’s obviously never had the hotel room next to Sid’s on a road trip,” Blandisi blurted, before his eyes grew wide as he seemed to realize what he’d said and he quickly got very interested in tying his skate laces. The room exploded in laughter around him.

“What, Blender?” Tanger snorted. “Are you saying you have proof that Sid’s not quite as pure as the ice on which he skates? That reports of his long-held virginity are” — _gasp_ — “wildly inaccurate?”

“Um, no. Maybe,” Blandisi mumbled with a nervous glance at Sid. “I mean, I … uh.”

“Relax, Joe,” Sid said, taking pity on the latest AHL call-up. “It’s cool in the room, when it’s just us. Just not once the doors open, eh?”

“Yeah, man,” Blandisi said. “Sure.”

“Meanwhile … skates on, boys,” Sid said, grabbing his stick and heading for the door.

Geno was already there, waiting.

“So,” Geno started as they headed down the hall toward the ice. “You a virgin, huh?”

“Maybe,” Sid said coyly. “If the reports are to be believed. That idea work for you?”

“Maybe,” Geno said with a slow grin. “A little bit. Maybe a lot.”

“Then maybe you’d like to come over after practice and, um, defile sweet, innocent me?” Sid said, doing his best to look as wide-eyed and angelic as that article apparently had made him out to be, save for a not-nearly-so-innocent glint in his eye. “I’ll wear your away jersey and we can give that new vibrator a trial run. The white one, in keeping with the purity theme.”

“Thought you wanted to save the white one for road trip, because road white,” Geno said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“Ehh,” Sid said with a bit of a shrug just as they reached the door to the ice. “We can always find another white one for the road. It’ll give Blender something to talk about over breakfast.”


	4. Dec. 4 — fingering and dirty talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They just really like fresh produce.

🍑🍑🍑🍑🍆🍑🍑🍑🍑

💦💦

“Oh, my god, Squid!”

Taylor’s squeal of horror mixed with delight was enough to pull Sid’s attention away from the book he was reading on the 1917 Halifax explosion — and send a chill up his spine.

“What’s wrong, Tay?” he asked, willfully ignoring the gleeful half of his sister’s tone in favor of ensuring her safety — and hoping he was wrong about the mixed messages she was sending. She didn’t appear to be bleeding from any visible wounds, so that was a plus, but experience had taught Sid that her delight was, perhaps, more concerning.

“Oh, my god,” she repeated, her voice breaking a bit on a laugh that was at odds with her expression. “Geno is sending you peach and eggplant emojis? I _did not_ need to see that — oh, my god. I can’t _unsee_ that!”

Sid was up and out of his chair and grabbing his phone from Taylor’s hand in near-record time before shoving it in his pocket.

“Why were you on my phone?” he asked. “And why were you reading my texts?”

“My phone died,” Taylor said. “I put it on the charger and figured I’d borrow yours to see what time Stephanie’s coming to get me. Sorry ... I wasn’t snooping. Really, that was the first window that popped up.”

“Fine, whatever,” Sid sighed, hoping she’d let it drop if he did. “Just ask next time, eh?”

“Sure,” Taylor said agreeably. “No problem.” 

“No problem,” Sid echoed, pocketing his phone and prepared to pretend this moment had never happened.

“But …” Taylor said, her voice going a bit sing-songy. “Why is Geno texting you peaches and eggplants?” 

“Uh … grocery list,” Sid said. “He, uh, was planning on hitting, uh, _stopping by_ the farmers’ market this morning.” 

“And he’s stocking up on the world’s most popular sexting fruit?” Taylor said skeptically. “Sure he is.” 

“He is,” Sid agreed, folding his arms across his chest. “I mentioned I was considering making peach cobbler. He offered to pick up peaches for me.”

“Let me guess, eight of them?” 

“Yep,” Sid said. “Eight of them. That’s what the recipe calls for. Eight peaches.”

“And if I asked you to show me this recipe, you could do that?” Taylor asked, her smile still looking far too devious for Sid’s comfort.

“Uh, sure. Yeah, of course,” Sid said. “Just let me …” 

Sid pulled his phone from his pocket, opened a browser tab and Googled “8-peach cobbler recipe,” consciously keeping his breathing steady as he waited for the page to load. 

“Yes!” He felt like he might have shouted but decided to assume from Taylor’s lack of reaction that he’d thankfully managed to keep that outburst strictly in his head. “Here you go, ‘Eight-Peach Cobbler,’ just like I said.”

Taylor looked at the phone screen as Sid held it out for her and pointed to the ingredients list, where the first ingredient specified eight peaches.

“Fine,” she said. “Fine. What about the eggplant? I’ve never seen a cobbler recipe that called for eggplant.”

“I was going to fix eggplant Parmesan for lunch, with the cobbler for dessert,” Sid said. “Geno agreed to pick up the eggplant when he gets the peaches.”

Taylor narrowed her eyes, her suspicions clearly not going anywhere.

“And the sweat droplets you sent in reply to his peaches and eggplant?”

“We’re going swimming after lunch,” Sid supplied. “Well, after a reasonable resting period. It’s not good to swim on a full stomach.” 

Taylor rolled her eyes.

“There is an actual swimming emoji, Squid,” she said. “You could have just used it. If you’re going to use emojis in texts, you really need to venture outside sexting’s greatest hits. … Especially if you’re not actually sexting. People could get the wrong idea.”

“Sure, Tay,” Sid said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Plus, I don’t want to have to bleach my eyeballs next time I accidentally stumble on your text log,” she said.

“Again, maybe ask before you just grab my phone,” Sid said with a small grin. “For now, go get your stuff. I think I just heard Stephanie pull up.”

Taylor practically skipped off to the guest room to get her overnight bag and returned in no time.

Then she had a quick hug for Sid as she headed out the door, a “Save me some cobbler” thrown over her shoulder as she pulled the door shut behind her.

Sid sighed, pulled out his phone again and dialed Geno, who picked up on the first ring.

“What’s up, Sid?” he asked. “Just about to leave. Be there soon.”

“You need to swing by the farmers market on your way,” Sid said. “I need eight peaches and some eggplant.”

“OK,” Geno replied, clearly puzzled. “Eight peaches? OK if I get 10 peach instead or have to be exact eight?”

“Sure,” Sid said. “However many, as long as it’s at least eight. And no need to pick up sandwiches. We’re having eggplant Parmesan and peach cobbler for lunch.”

“OK,” Geno said again. “Not a problem. But, why?”

“Taylor found our texts on my phone, wanted me to explain why you were sending me ‘sexting’s greatest hits’,” Sid said. “I told her it was a grocery list.”

Sid had to hold the phone away from his ear, Geno was laughing so hard.

“Sid,” Geno finally said when he’d calmed down enough to form words again. “Taylor know we date. When she find out, she send me string of shovel emojis. Weird how little emoji can make such big threat. But she know. Why lie about texts?”

“She’s still my kid sister, G,” Sid explained. “Knowing we’re dating and knowing we sext — or have sex — are not the same. Even _assuming_ we have sex and having it confirmed are not the same. What was I supposed to say? ‘Well, sis, Geno was just reminding what a nice, plush ass he has and asking me if I’d put my dick in it, and the little water droplets were my way of saying I’d be happy to.’ Is that what you wanted me to tell Taylor? Should I send her your way, let you explain?”

“When you put that way,” Geno said, sounding appropriately horrified at the notion. “I pick up at least eight peaches, two eggplant, be there soon.”

“Great,” Sid said. “And, hey, pick up some honey while you’re there. I’m in the mood to drizzle some over that nice, juicy peach of yours before I eat it for dessert!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There really is a peach cobbler recipe that calls for [eight peaches](https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/51535/fresh-southern-peach-cobbler/).
> 
> And the [Halifax explosion of 1917](https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/retropolis/wp/2017/12/06/two-ships-collided-in-halifax-harbor-one-of-them-was-a-3000-ton-floating-bomb/) actually happened.
> 
> And texting does require fingers, or thumbs. Maybe both. 😉


	5. Chapter 5 — Geno uses a vibrator on Sid's puffy nips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Wednesdays are crazy-busy for me and I didn't have time to write. I may come back to this after Advent is over and fill in the blank.
> 
> Meanwhile, I'm using this note as a placeholder. (Because it's hard enough keeping my days and prompts straight when I'm writing tomorrow's prompt today and posting yesterday's writing today, without having to keep track of a thrown-off chapter count, too.)

I'm adding text here — another placeholder — because AO3 won't let me post otherwise.


	6. Day 6 — comeshot, pearl necklace, bukakke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid's in Philly. Geno's going shopping.

“Hey, G,” Tanger said in greeting as he caught up to Geno outside the locker room. “With your boy in the wrong city today, do you want to grab some lunch?” 

“Have some errands to run,” Geno replied, pulling his scarf more firmly around his ears. “But could probably do both. What you have in mind?” 

A half-hour later they had a table at Firebirds and had made enough of a dent in their food that conversation was starting to be viable again.

“You said you had errands to run,” Tanger said. “Anything exciting or just picking up your suits at the dry cleaners?” 

“Need go to Oakmont Bakery, stop at jewelry store,” Geno said. “Christmas shop. Figure it good time with Sid in Philly for checkup.”

“You’re getting him baked goods for Christmas?” Tanger asked. “Aren’t you shopping a bit early for that? I’m not sure there’s anything a good bakery can make that’s still going to be fresh in three weeks.”

“No,” Geno laughed, pausing to finish chewing a bite of salad. “Pie for later, when Sid get home. He hope surgeon clear him for next step in recovery. We celebrate, you know.”

“We can hope he’s progressing well,” Tanger said. “It’d be good to have him back on the ice.”

“Be good to have back in bed, too,” Geno said. “Been sleep at his house, say safer that way, less chance accidental … you know. Less hurt. Not gonna push, of course. Want him healthy. But …” Geno trailed off as he poked at his salad, looking for any stray bits of tuna that he’d missed. “I’m miss, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Tanger said. “I hate it when Cath isn’t sleeping beside me.”

“Good news, he think doctor going give him OK to move to next activity level, maybe start sleep at my house again, get to fool around little bit,” Geno said. “I ask him how he want to celebrate if he cleared. He say he want creme pie. Oakmont Bakery have best peanut butter-chocolate pie, so I think I go pick one up.”

Geno stopped talking and looked up from his plate as Tanger suddenly started coughing. His face was turning red, and Geno was about to ask if he was OK when Tanger seemed to get himself under control.

“You OK?” he asked. “Tortilla soup have chicken bone? Or you just forget how to swallow?”

Tanger gave another sputtered cough at that before clearing his throat.

“So Sid might be cleared for light activity, including some level of sex, says he wants a creme pie and you — you decide to visit a bakery?”

“He really like chocolate peanut butter pie,” Geno said with a shrug. “Maybe I get lucky after dessert.”

Tanger rolled his eyes.

“And what else did Sid say about his celebration plans?” he finally asked, after carefully setting his soup spoon on the edge of the plate alongside his bowl.

“He say he want pearl necklace,” Geno said, noting the way Tanger’s eyebrows shot up and his face contorted. “Figure I get, save it for Christmas — or when he back on ice for good.”

“G,” Tanger started, before stopping to collect himself again. “Are you sure — absolutely sure — that Sid was talking about actual jewelry? Not to get too personal, but you know creme pies and pearl necklaces are both slang for sex acts, right?”

It was Geno’s turn to roll his eyes before he let a wide, smirky grin — the one Sid referred to as his “surprisingly hot asshole” look — split his face.

“Of course I know, Kris,” he said. “Not stupid. But nothing wrong with two kind creme pie, two pearl necklaces. Sid special. He worth giving all the kinds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lunch menu at [Firebirds](https://firebirdsrestaurants.com/menu/generic-lunch-menu/), which is near the practice facility.
> 
> Oakmont Bakery's [chocolate peanut butter pie](https://shop.oakmontbakery.com/product_info.php?cPath=336_299_333&products_id=1843&osCsid=0f0q1sljfu5ru4e687oerjrvr5).
> 
> Assorted pearl necklaces:  
  
  

> 
> [This website](https://advancedmassagebysara.com/tahitian-pearl-leather-necklace-km82.hta) also has a lot of men's pearl necklace designs. I love the combination of the leather strap and the black pearl(s). And I found a pretty black pearl pendant that had a swirl of gold setting that reminded me of the lines left in the ice when they skate and the whole "black and gold" thing. But I forgot to save the link and couldn't find it again.


	7. Day 7 — double penetration

“_Jesus_, G,” Sid said, stroking his hand down the back of Geno’s thigh from knee to hip, the coarse hairs under his fingertips resisting the forced change in direction. “You look so good, babe. So fucking good.”

There had been a lot of deliberate locker room etiquette around their house in recent weeks, Sid careful not to look as Geno climbed out of bed each day and disappeared into the bathroom, his morning wood tenting the basketball shorts in which he’d taken to sleeping for the duration.

OK, so maybe Sid hadn’t been absolutely strict about not looking. He didn’t think anyone, even his surgeon, would blame him if they knew what a vision it was.

Still, his not-so-subtle glances were nothing compared to the sight before him now, Geno gloriously naked in their bed, one ankle hooked over Sid’s shoulder and the other resting flat on the bed after Sid had pushed Geno’s thighs wide and Geno had let the one fall the rest of the way until his knee, too, was almost brushing the bedding.

As if Geno simply spread out in front of him wasn’t enough, Geno cupped his balls before dragging them and his hand up and over the base of his dick, ensuring that Sid had an absolutely unobstructed view of Geno’s ass — plush cheeks framing a tight furl, a dusting of hair even lighter than that on his chest.

“So fucking good,” Sid repeated. He felt it deserved repeating.

Sid ran his finger down the taut skin between the base of Geno’s dick and that tantalizing pucker before pressing carefully. Geno moaned, his dick twitching under his hand, and Sid turned his head to nip at Geno’s calf before reaching for the lube on the bed beside his own knee.

A generous squirt and Sid tossed the tube back on the bed, wasting no time beginning to work Geno open. A moan of his own escaped him as he sunk a single finger deep into Geno’s heat and Geno clenched around him, pulling him in deeper. A second finger had both of them breathing harder — it had been a long few weeks — and a third had Geno rocking his hips into the thrust.

Sid finally withdrew his fingers and reached for the toy on the bed, holding it up where Geno could see.

“This the one you want?” Sid asked, skeptically. “It’s not as thick as you usually like.”

“Is fine,” Geno said. “Been a while, you know. Plus vibrate. Should be good.”

“True,” Sid said agreeably, making a show of slicking up the pink plastic cylinder just to see the expressions play across Geno’s face.

“Come on, Sid,” Geno finally huffed, impatience getting the better of him. “Give to me.”

“Sure, babe. Like this?” Sid asked, teasing the slick tip across Geno’s balls before tracing it lower and oh-so-slightly prodding at Geno’s hole, which fluttered around the tip with every poke.

“Sid,” Geno demanded, his tone of voice similar to his on-ice demands for the puck. “Now.”

“So pushy,” Sid said, even as he pressed against the hard, pink end of the toy until it was as deep in Geno as it could safely go. “Is that better?” 

“Is good,” Geno said, his voice pitched higher as he adjusted to being filled again. “Can move.” 

Sid carefully slid the toy out and back in, setting up a rhythm as Geno matched it with his hand on his dick.

“Want me to turn it on?” Sid asked.

“Not yet, just …” Geno said.

They were quiet as both focused on the moment, Sid splitting his gaze between watching the wand disappear into Geno and watching the head of Geno’s dick disappear in his hand as Geno stroked himself.

“Fuck,” Geno finally said. “Is not enough. Thought it would be enough.” 

“It’s OK, babe,” Sid soothed, adjusting his grip on the toy so his index finger ran along its length. “I’ve got you.” 

The next time Sid slid home the toy, he let his finger join it. The toy was only about an inch thick and Sid knew his finger would make a noticeable difference in the stretch.

Geno sucked in a breath.

“Better?” Sid asked, soothing his free hand along Geno’s ass and squeezing.

“Yes, but ...” Geno said. “More. Please.”

Another slide and Sid had added two fingers to the toy’s girth. Geno squeezed his own dick and clenched around Sid’s fingers, dragging his other hand through his hair before looking at Sid.

“Can you …”

“What, babe?” Sid asked softly. “What do you need?”

“Can you … want you in me,” Geno finally said.

Sid froze. Because, god, he wanted that, too. But the reason they were using a toy right now was very specifically because Sid really didn’t need to be over-exerting himself. It sucked enough that he was out for six weeks. He didn’t want to have to explain if there were any delays. Certainly not if those delays were attributed to _this_. And while, yes, he’d been hard pretty much from the moment Geno sprawled across their bed, there was a big difference in the muscles used to carefully jerk himself off and the ones used to actually fuck Geno.

“Fuck, G,” he finally said, his voice hoarse with his want. “You know I want to. God. But …” He broke off, words failing him.

“Know you can’t really do like normal,” Geno said. “But … what if you use toy, too? Turn on. Let it do work. You just help fill.”

“You mean have me and it in you at the same time?” Sid asked, doubtfully. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Not hurt me,” Geno said. “Feel good. But you be so worried about hurt me that you won’t do anything hurt you. Both stay healthy. Both feel good.” 

“I don’t know, G.” Still, Sid considered it. He had to admit it was tempting. Geno had always been something of a size queen. Thank goodness Sid could hold his own on that front. “Are you sure it wouldn’t be too much for you?” 

“Pretty sure,” Geno said, sounding it. “Can always try, stop if not good. But your dick never not feel good for me. Feel best.”

And, really, Sid’s resistance was low from weeks of abstinence — and it was never particularly high when it came to Geno anyway. 

“OK, babe,” he finally agreed. “If you’re sure.”

“Am sure,” Geno said with a hiss as Sid withdrew the toy and his fingers and reached for the lube again.

Then Sid wrapped one hand around both his dick and the toy and pressed them against Geno’s hole until both popped through the ring of muscle. 

Sid paused, the head of his dick just inside Geno.

“You good?” he asked, rubbing at Geno’s thigh. 

“Yes,” Geno replied, squirming just a bit. “Very good. More.”

Sid slowly, carefully, pressed his groin forward until he and the toy were fully seated in Geno. He knew better than to thrust, really, but he rocked into it just a bit. Geno rocked back.

“You OK?” Sid asked. “We can stop.”

“No!” Geno’s reaction was immediate and emphatic. “Don’t stop.” Geno breathed deeply, visibly relaxing his neck, his shoulders. “Is good.”

“You’re sure?” Sid asked again.

“Yes,” Geno said. “Feel so good. Stretch a lot, full. But so good.”

“OK,” Sid said, trusting that Geno wouldn’t lie about this, that he wouldn’t risk a sex-related injury. Because injuries sucked. And explaining to Sully would suck even harder. “I’m going to turn the vibrator on,” he warned. Another day he might prefer Geno’s reaction to the vibrator when he didn’t announce it, but he was being cautious today. Having to peel G off of the ceiling wasn’t really in the game plan. “Try to be still.”

Geno nodded his head before visibly bracing himself for what was to come. Only then did Sid hit the switch to set the toy to its lowest setting. 

And, yeah. That was … good. Really good. 

It’s not like they’d never used a vibrator before. They owned a few, each with various selling points, and Sid had taken Geno apart more than once with each of them. Geno had done the same for Sid.

But while Sid had been known to press a small vibrator to Geno’s perineum when he was balls deep in Geno’s ass and the results had been spectacular, this — this tight fit as Geno squeezed around Sid’s dick, the vibrator in immediate proximity instead of being somewhat dulled by distance — this was a different level. 

“Fuck, G,” Sid gasped as Geno writhed on his dick. He looked up to find Geno with his head thrown back, his back arched and a sheen of sweat following a heated flush the length of his torso. “Fuck. I’m not going to last.”

“Sid,” was all Geno managed as his hand sped up on his dick, the rest of his muscles locking up as he came in thick spurts up the center of his abdomen and chest.

The visual of Geno falling apart in front of him paired with the twin sensations of Geno’s heat and the steady, unwavering hum of the vibrator snug against the length of his dick was all it took for Sid to follow him, not thrusting but pressing deep inside Geno before coming hard.

He flinched and grabbed for the end of the toy, flipping the switch to kill the steady hum against his suddenly oversensitive dick. Carefully, he removed the toy and slipped out himself, angling down to the bed to snuggle into Geno’s side.

“Think we try that again,” Geno said, sounding a bit blissed out as he turned his head on the pillow to look at Sid.

“Yeah,” Sid said. He couldn’t deny that was pretty amazing. “But let’s not make recovering from surgery a prerequisite next time.”

“No,” Geno frowned at the reminder of Sid’s injury before grinning. “We both stay healthy. Have all the amazing sex, all the time.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sid said, reflecting Geno’s grin back at him.

“Of course,” Geno said smugly. “My plan best plan.”

Sid laughed as he buried his face in Geno’s shoulder.

“Oh, my god,” he said. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m best,” Geno said.

“Yeah,” Sid said. “You really are.”


	8. Day 8 — making a sex video

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's short, but ...

“Head’s up, Sid,” Tanger said, sliding into the booth at one side of the packed club. “Some asshole’s trying to convince people he has a sex tape of you.”

“What?!” Sid asked, shifting in a too-rapid heartbeat from his previously relaxed slouch to full-on Sid intensity. “What the hell?”

“Don’t worry,” Tanger said. “I’ve already taken care of it.” 

“Seriously, what’s going on, man?” Sid asked.

“I told _Monsieur Douche_ I didn’t believe him, asked him to show it to me,” Tanger said. “He was just drunk enough and stupid enough that he pulled out his phone and did.”

“And? Do I need to call Jen?” Sid asked. “I mean, I know it’s not me, but … that doesn’t always matter if the story gains traction.”

“Nah,” Tanger said. “No need to bother her tonight. I’ll let her know about it tomorrow and give her the guy’s information — did I mention that he was drunk and stupid and gave me that, too? — so she can send him a cease and desist, just for fun. But there’s no way that video gains traction on social media as being you.”

“You’re sure?” Sid asked.

“Positive,” Tanger said. “The minute he tries to post that anywhere, he’s going to have the entirety of the Pens social media fan base shutting him down — absolutely certain that, no, that’s most definitely not Sid’s ass! And they’ll have enough photographic evidence to fill the arena — possibly with spreadsheets and geometric diagrams!”


	9. Day 9 — edging (+ panties) (+ forced orgasm)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geno has a gift for Sid.

“Seriously?” Sid asked, looking at the small box Geno had just placed in front of him. “You know I love your gifts, babe. But … timing.” He managed to stutter out the last word as Geno dragged his hand, grip tight, up the length of Sid’s dick and twisted, thumbing over the slit at the bead of moisture forming there.

Anything else Sid might have said evaporated on a moan as he tilted his head back against Geno’s shoulder and mouthed at his jawline. 

Sid had awoken that morning to Geno pressed against his back, warm and solid — very solid — and his hand teasing along Sid’s abdomen. Once he was sure Sid was fully awake, Geno had slid his morning wood between Sid’s thighs and rutted slowly, steadily, nudging at Sid’s balls and working his dick until they had reached this point.

The point where Sid was hard and leaking, dangling on that precipice and oh, so close to tumbling over the edge.

The point where Geno … decided to give him a present?!

“Is good time,” Geno said. “Trust me. Just open.”

“I’m so close,” Sid said, pushing his ass back to snug more firmly against Geno’s groin.

“Open present first, _lyubov_,” Geno replied, his tone gentle but firm. Sid clearly wasn’t going to win this one.

Sid shifted enough to prop himself up on one elbow without dislodging Geno’s hand or Geno’s dick. Then he untied the ribbon on the box and lifted the lid to find a puddle of fuchsia lace nestled inside tissue paper. Maybe he _was_ going to win this one.

He stared at it for a moment, feeling his dick get even harder as he considered the possibilities before reaching out to stroke a finger across the front of the panties. It wasn’t scratchy at all. Instead, the silk felt as if it could melt under his touch.

“You like?” Geno asked, voice low and slightly ticklish in Sid’s ear.

“Fuck, G,” Sid moaned. “I do. But if I try to put them on now, I’m probably going to ruin them before I get one leg in.”

“Not for now,” Geno said, sliding his hand up Sid’s dick again before letting go in favor of picking up the panties. He wrapped a bit of the fabric around his index finger and let the rest dangle, moving just enough to let the silk tease over Sid’s chest, brush a pebbled nipple.

“G, fuck,” Sid moaned. “I’m so close. Tell me what you want.”

“Panties for tonight,” Geno said, biting Sid’s earlobe as he pressed his silk-covered hand to Sid’s chest. “I’m take you to dinner. You dress nice, wear suit. Wear these under. Know when dinner over, gonna come home, take suit off, make you come in panties.”

“I’m gonna come now,” Sid said with a pretty high degree of certainty.

“_Nyet_,” G said firmly. “Save for tonight. Spend day think about. Eat dinner knowing what under suit. Think about how good it feel when you finally come, soak panties.”

“Fuck, G,” Sid said again for lack of any other words in his brain at the moment.

G slid the panties down until he could tuck them in Sid’s hand and, with a nip at that tender spot behind Sid’s ear, slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom. 

Sid flopped over onto his back, silk crushed in his hand and his dick hard and leaking against his stomach.

He took a moment to actively try to calm his breathing, which worked slightly better than his attempts to will away his erection, which wasn’t saying a whole lot. Then he climbed out of bed, smoothed the panties carefully on the bedside table for later and headed for the bedroom door.

He could always request an ice bath at the rink, but he didn’t want to go that far. Fingers crossed the water in their guestroom shower was cold enough to make him presentable for practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continue reading on [Day 10](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21636847/chapters/51910123).


	10. Day 10 — spanking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of [Day 9.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21636847/chapters/51850477)

Maybe _that_ was the true Miracle on Ice.

Sure, the Americans had claimed the phrase for almost 40 years. But Sid couldn’t help but believe there was some divine intervention involved in the fact that he made it through practice without getting an erection so hard that it popped every careful stitch Dana had put into holding together Sid’s jock for nearly two decades.

Of course, he and Geno were both distracted by practice, the irony not lost on Sid that it was the team’s broken mess of a power play that kept their minds off of their dinner plans and their own low-key power play.

After practice and cool down and locker room-appropriate showers with unwitting teammate chaperones, they still had long hours stretched ahead of them in the day. Thankfully, Sid had a prescheduled lunch with Taylor and a few of her co-workers. Then he played it safe and hit Sewickley’s main street for some Christmas shopping, timing it so he’d arrive home just in time to shower ahead of his and Geno’s dinner plans.

He had just finished drying off and was toweling at his hair when Geno stepped into the bathroom, dress pants and shoes already on but still shirtless. 

“Hey, babe,” Sid said, leaning up for a chaste peck. “Give me just a few minutes and I’ll be ready to go.” 

“Plenty of time,” Geno said easily, resting his hands on Sid’s bare hips. “Reservations still a while.” He rubbed a thumb across Sid’s pelvic bone. “Where you disappear today? Lunch with Taylor take five hours?”

“Ended up doing some shopping,” Sid said lightly. “Christmas is coming, you know.”

“Yes,” Geno said. “But I’m think you do because avoid me.”

“Of course not,” Sid said with a huff. “Why would I do that? I love you.” 

“Maybe you afraid you not be able wait ’til after dinner if you spend afternoon with me,” Geno said, his tone still casual — suspiciously casual. It didn’t match the carefully assessing look in Geno’s eyes at all. “Maybe …”

Geno slipped one hand from Sid’s hip down to wrap long fingers around Sid’s soft dick and squeeze. It wasn’t painful, but Geno’s dry hand on Sid’s shower-damp dick wasn’t really a threat to his carefully maintained lack of an erection, either. 

“Maybe I’m need punish you for avoid me,” Geno said, looking Sid in the eye. People made a big deal about Sid’s intensity, but Sid suspected those people had never been pinned by Geno’s gaze.

“Punish me?” Sid asked, mentally squirming under Geno’s unblinking stare, unable to look away. “How would you do that?”

“Maybe I spank your bottom for be brat,” Geno said, sweeping his hand not on Sid’s dick down Sid’s hip and around to squeeze his ass.

The sudden swat that followed was more of a love pat than a spanking, but the unexpectedness of it paired with just the slightest sting made Sid jump, which jerked his dick in Geno’s hand.

The noise Sid made was loud as it passed lips parted in surprise.

When Sid managed to focus again on Geno, Geno’s gaze had gone hot.

“Maybe ... you should,” Sid said. “I mean, not a lot. But maybe just a little, just in case.”

“Little bit,” Geno said consideringly. “I can do little bit. … Turn around, hands on the counter.”

Sid faced the counter, hands curled around the edge as he caught Geno’s eye in the mirror. He felt his dick twitch in interest and gave an exaggerated pout, biting his lip and making sure Geno saw. Geno just quirked an eyebrow and pressed a hand to Sid’s back until Sid bent a bit at the waist, his ass thrusting out in the process.

Geno kept his eyes locked with Sid’s as he stroked his hands slowly over the curve of Sid’s ass. Just as Sid was considering saying something to move things along, Geno raised a hand and struck, his speed not unlike hundreds of shots Sid had seen him take on the ice.

Sid jolted. _Fuck._ Geno definitely hadn’t put as much power behind it as he could have, but Sid certainly felt it — and quite possibly was going to be feeling it tomorrow.

The thought made his dick twitch again and he dipped his head to steady his breathing, only to have his eyes land on the panties lying on the counter in front of him, the vibrant fuchsia practically glowing in the bright lights above the bathroom mirror.

The reminder that they were supposed to be getting ready for dinner, Sid wearing that scrap of silk under his suit, made Sid’s face flame and his dick start to harden.

“We can always skip dinner,” he said, clearing his throat as it cracked. “Order in.”

“_Nyet_,” Geno said. “Promised you dinner at nice restaurant. I’m keep my promise.”

Sid might have argued except Geno chose that moment to strike again, a stinging pop to Sid’s other ass cheek. Whatever he had intended to say instead came out as a garbled mush of vowels.

His ass was on fire, his face was on fire and his dick was fast approaching full mast. _Jesus_.

“So pretty, my handprint on your ass,” Geno said, squeezing generous fistfuls as he leaned in to kiss Sid’s shoulder while keeping eye contact via the mirror. “Can’t wait to see how you look in panties.”

“Seriously?” Sid asked. “I’m, uh, kinda hard here, babe. Not sure they’ll fit.”

“Sure they will,” Geno replied, reaching past Sid to pick up the panties. “Let me help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continue reading on [Day 11](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21636847/chapters/51970396).


	11. Day 11 — rimming + crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geno's so helpful.
> 
> (A continuation of [Chapter 10](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21636847/chapters/51910123).)

“I’m pretty sure your _help_ isn’t actually going to help me fit into those right now,” Sid said dryly.

__

__

“Sure it will,” Geno said, his smile broad and innocent, like he was some sort of Boy Scout offering to help someone’s grandma cross the street.

Sid wasn’t fooled. He wasn’t sure if Geno had learned that trick from Flower or if he came from Russia with it already a finely honed skill, but Sid was well aware that the more innocent Geno tried to look, the more trouble he was about to cause.

Still, Sid was pretty certain that he wasn’t truly going to regret whatever Geno had waiting behind that grin.

“Fine,” he said, making resignation seep into the word. He took a deep, centering breath and looked up at Geno in the mirror and batted his eyelashes. If Geno could play innocent, he could, too. “G, babe, would you help me put on my panties?”

The hitch in Geno’s breath and the way his grin faltered as Sid’s words registered was highly gratifying, but Sid batted his eyelashes again in lieu of gloating. He knew better than to gloat, because he may have caught Geno off guard, but Geno’s surprise wasn’t likely to last long. He’d find a way to regain the upper hand. Sid was looking forward to it.

Geno didn’t disappoint. Panties in hand, he squatted by Sid’s hip, running his empty hand down the inside of Sid’s bare leg as he mouthed at Sid’s ass, the barest hint of teeth at the edge of overheated skin where Geno had marked him.

Sid felt his knees go weak and leaned more heavily on his hands.

“Lift,” Geno said, patting at Sid’s ankle. 

Sid shifted his weight to his other leg and did as instructed, sucking in a breath as the cool fabric brushed against the top of his foot and his lower shin.

“Again,” Geno said, tapping at Sid’s other calf.

Sid complied, closing his eyes as Geno shifted until he was more directly behind Sid and slowly began sliding the panties up Sid’s legs. Sid shivered as the silk wafted over the hairs on his legs, not pulling but making him aware of his very hair follicles, individual skin cells.

It was progressing pretty easily, though, and Sid was just beginning to refocus on how he was going to manage to fit his dick and his balls inside that scrap of fabric when Geno paused in pulling them up. The panties were just at the point on Sid’s upper thighs that his balls brushed against the lace at the slightest provocation.

“Little bit snug,” Geno said, his words absolutely oozing innocence. “Maybe need help.”

“Here, just … let me,” Sid said, skeptical about both Geno’s tone of voice and whether he’d have better luck. He figured he at least had a lifetime of experience in pulling on his own underwear.

“No,” Geno said. “Is fine. I do. Just need …”

Sid should have suspected, should have been braced for _something_, but he still couldn’t prevent the full-body shudder that ran through him like a minor earthquake as Geno simultaneously gripped his ass to hold him open and ran the flat of his tongue the full length of Sid’s crease, from just behind his balls and over his hole to that ticklish spot where the skin thinned over his tailbone.

“Fuck,” he bit out, a smaller shiver hitting him like an aftershock as the shudder pushed his balls up against the cool fabric trapped just below them. “Not sure that’s going to help.”

“Of course it will,” Geno said, pausing in prodding his tongue at Sid’s hole. “Tight fit just need lube. I’m get you wet, panties slide right on.”

Sid gripped tighter at the bathroom counter, not sure how much longer his knees were going to support his weight before they buckled under Geno’s onslaught.

“I, I don’t think ... I don’t think that’s how silk works,” he finally managed to get out around a stutter.

“Sure it is,” Geno said confidently. “I’m show.”

And, _fuck_. Geno was nothing if not thorough, running the point of his tongue around the rim of Sid’s hole before working it into his ass, pausing only to nip at the tender skin nearby, to wipe his wet chin on the meat of Sid’s ass or to lick a broad, wet stripe along the underside, just above where the panties were resting.

Sid was soaked. His balls were pulled up tight and his dick was jutting straight out and leaking onto the tile floor. He could feel his orgasm starting to creep up on him.

“You need … to stop,” he gasped. “I can’t …”

Geno withdrew his tongue from Sid’s ass so quickly that it made Sid’s head spin. Then Geno stood, pulling on the sides of the panties until he worked them up and over Sid’s ass. The silk clung to his damp skin, cool against the bits that were still feeling the heat of Geno’s spanking moments earlier. The delicate waistband fell right below the top of Sid’s crease and Sid shifted a bit, both trying to unstick the fabric from his skin and trying to ease the pressure on his balls where the fabric dug into their underside.

He was about to reach for himself, to finish pulling up the front of the panties, when Geno plastered himself to Sid’s back, wrapping strong arms around Sid’s torso. Sid drew in a steadying breath as he reveled in the skin-to-skin contact of Geno’s bare chest against his bare back, the feel of Geno’s fine wool suit pants contrasting with the silk of the panties. 

Geno pulled, encouraging Sid to stand up straight and lean his weight back against Geno as he nipped at the muscle at the point where Sid’s neck met his shoulder.

“Look so good, _lyubov_,” Geno said.

Sid hadn’t kept his eyes closed the entire time Geno had been teasing him, but he had avoided looking too directly at himself in the mirror. At Geno’s words, he looked up to meet Geno’s gaze in the mirror and then watched, mesmerized, as Geno trailed a gentle hand down Sid’s abdomen.

Maybe that was a mistake, because Sid had to slam his eyes closed again as Geno cupped one hand under Sid’s balls and dragged them and Sid’s dick up and situated the panties around them.

“See?” Geno asked, his tone spiking Sid’s curiosity enough that, good idea or not, he slowly opened his eyes again and looked.

“Jesus, G,” he breathed out.

It’s not like he couldn’t feel what Geno had been doing, but _seeing_ it was something else entirely.

The panties were pulled up as far as they were going to go, still riding low on Sid’s hips but with just enough stretch that he wasn’t in danger of losing circulation to any vital bits. That didn’t mean they actually covered all of him. Or much of any of him, really.

And Geno hadn’t even tried to tuck Sid’s dick under the waistband. Instead, he’d situated it so Sid’s dick created a hard line up the middle of his pelvis, the waistband falling just under the rim of his head, which was a darker shade of pink than the panties, a milky smudge at the slit only highlighting the color contrast.

“Sure you don’t want to order in?” Sid asked.

“_Da_,” Geno said, giving Sid’s dick a final stroke in the guise of smoothing out the fabric that pulled taut across it before he shifted away and turned toward the door leading back into their bedroom. “But you need hurry. Not even dress yet. Don’t want be late for reservations.” 


	12. Day 12 — lap dance/sitting in Santa's lap

“Hey, Santa,” Geno called from where he was perched on the boards separating the rink from the bench. “Come sit on my lap, tell if you’ve been good boy this year.” 

Sid laughed and bounced the puck on his stick over a few heads to Jake before skating away from the Cullen kids — beyond excited to be back in town for family skate — and over to Geno, deliberately sending a bit of snow flying Geno’s way as he came to a stop just short of the wall.

Geno tugged Sid closer by the plush white lapels of the bright red coat he was wearing over black jeans and a long-sleeved black thermal shirt. He wasn’t really Santa, but after Santa had finished greeting all of the kids — and a few of the rookies — Sid had offered to hold Santa’s thigh-length coat while Billy G. dealt with the glue from his fake beard. It was a nice coat, and Sid had ended up wearing it back out to the ice.

“Shouldn’t that be the other way around?” Sid asked, grinning up at his boyfriend. “Shouldn’t you be sitting on Santa’s lap?” 

Geno made a show of looking scandalized.

“Santa,” he said, swatting flirtily at Sid’s lapel where the fur collar draped downward from his shoulder. “Babies not need to see that.”

Laughter bubbled up and out of Sid.

“And they need to see me sitting on _your_ lap?” he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“Your coat long,” Geno replied gleefully. “Protect innocent babies.”

“I’m not sure there’s a coat long enough to provide that level of protection.” Sid’s attempt at straight-faced righteousness went down in the flames of a snort, torn asunder by the mix that was his absolute love and affection for Geno and every bit of Geno’s brazenness.

He could feel his face heat at the idea of wearing nothing but the long, velvet-and-faux-fur coat as he rode Geno on the bench in the empty ice rink, Geno fucking into him slowly at first before it became something much more desperate for both of them. Well, he’d been skating and Santa notoriously had rosy cheeks, right? 

“You maybe right,” Geno agreed thoughtfully, his smirk and years of familiarity warning Sid of what was to come. “Hard to hide that ass.”

Sid narrowed his eyes at Geno.

“I feel as if you just called me a ‘fat ass’,” he said.

“Never,” Geno replied. “Just mean, is _spectacular_ ass.” 

“Good save,” Sid said, humor again lacing his voice. “I’m not buying your innocent routine, but I’ll accept ‘spectacular’ and let you get by with it. Just this once.”

“You so good to me, Santa,” Geno replied, feigning shyness as he glanced at Sid from under fluttering eyelashes. “And if you bring coat home, I’ll sit on Santa’s lap later. He can decide if I’ve been good boy this year.”

"I already know you’ve been very good this year,” Sid said, leaning in for a chaste kiss suited to the family-friendly skate. “But it never hurts for Santa to check his list twice.”


	13. Chapter 13 — public sex

Sid had sputtered at Geno’s audacity. He really shouldn’t have been surprised but, even knowing it was all part of Geno’s little game didn’t mean Sid was any less offended by the unfair accusation of … of _dillydallying_.

But Geno had moved fast and, by the time Sid’s brain caught up to a retort, he found himself yelling his very lame “You’re not ready, either” at Geno’s shirtless back as he disappeared through the bathroom door.

It had taken Sid a few minutes after that to gather his composure and will his dick into deflating enough that he could fit all of it inside the silky panties — not that the panties’ waistband wasn’t still being pushed to its limits, but it was the best Sid could do.

By the time he had left the bathroom to grab his suit from the closet, Geno was nowhere to be found. 

Sid breathed a sigh of relief — nope, definitely not disappointment — and set about getting dressed — black suit, white shirt, black tie. He was pleased to find that he could zip his pants and his suit jacket was long enough to keep him respectable to venture out in public.

∞ ∞ ∞

Thirty minutes later they made it to the restaurant and were escorted to a private booth with a high back that shielded them from the view of other diners. Geno had been merciful on the drive, not teasing Sid beyond letting his pinky stroke along the inner seam of Sid’s pants as he rested a warm hand on Sid’s upper thigh.

It probably was a good thing — Sid wasn’t sure even his suit coat would be sufficient to hide the evidence if Geno had pushed any harder, not when Geno had opted to wear his suit with that damn waistcoat — and paired it with a necktie that appeared to be made out of the same silk as Sid’s panties.

As if he wasn’t already well aware of the silk (barely) covering his ass, he was going to be reminded every time he looked at Geno sitting across the table from him at dinner. He was just grateful he wasn’t taking a drink of the water waiting on their table when the waitress complimented Geno on his tie and Geno had responded oh-so-politely.

“Thank you,” he had said, stroking a hand down the silk and preening just enough to charm the waitress further. “I’m think color look better on Sid, but he insist on wear boring black ties.”

Sid had coughed then, choking on air as the waitress then began reassuring Sid that his black tie wasn’t boring and that he looked good in it, too.

∞ ∞ ∞

And then, for the most part, they enjoyed dinner. They ordered, they ate, they talked about when their parents were going to arrive ahead of Christmas and whose presents Sid had managed to check off of their Christmas list with his shopping trip that afternoon.

They reached dessert and went through their usual routine of Sid declining and Geno insisting — “You know you want, Sid. Why we go through every time?” — until he had a slice of chocolate peppermint cheesecake in front of him.

Sid was feeling pretty much as if all was right in the world in that moment. The steak had been excellent and the cheesecake had his mouth watering in anticipation. Once he had convinced his body to calm down a bit, he was even able to appreciate the way the silk felt different from his everyday cotton boxer briefs when he shifted in his seat. 

Of course, he had just closed his lips around the first bite of cheesecake when he startled, eyes flying wide and darting to Geno, who was relaxed in his seat, casually sipping at the tea he had ordered in lieu of dessert — as if he didn’t totally have his dress sock-covered foot in Sid’s lap, working very limber toes along Sid’s shaft.

Sid supposed he should appreciate the timing. If he’d actually had time to taste the cheesecake before Geno decided to ramp up their game again, he could have been mid-swallow and choked on it. Forget DeadSpin. He really didn’t want to provide the Post-Gazette or the Chronicle Herald — or any media — with a front-page headline about his panties-clad death by cheesecake.

“Something wrong with dessert?” Geno asked, all innocent-like. “Turn little bit pink. You OK?”

“Uh, uhm, yeah,” Sid said after carefully swallowing the bite of cheesecake and before clearing his throat to ease the static as his voice cracked even on those few syllables. “I’m good. Cheesecake’s good. But, uh, I think I’m going to ask for a go box.”

“Not want eat now?” Geno asked, wiggling his toes into the crease of Sid’s groin as Sid’s dick slotted into the curve of his arch.

“Yeah, I do,” Sid said, giving Geno a meaningful look. “But I really think _dessert_ would be better _at home_. That way, if I get _choked_ on something, you can call 911 without it becoming a public spectacle.”

“You think you might get choke?” Geno asked, just the right amount of concern in his voice to almost make Sid buy it. “On cheesecake?”

“No, not on cheesecake. But maybe the _varyonaya_,” Sid said, gratified to see some cracks in Geno’s calm facade as he simultaneously forked another small bite of cheesecake into his mouth and shifted to let his thighs fall open just that little bit more.

“_Varyonaya_,” Geno parroted.

“Yep,” Sid said, taking a page out of Geno’s “innocence” playbook. “That steak was perfect, but I can’t stop thinking about tasting that nice, thick, _juicy_ Russian sausage at home.”

Geno’s toes curled in Sid’s lap — fuck, even his toes were international levels of talented! — but Geno no longer had the advantage of surprise.

“Oh, god,” Sid moaned, albeit not as loudly as he might have in a more private setting. “This is _really_ good … _cheesecake_.”

Geno sat up straighter and carefully set down his cup of tea, the rattle of the china on the saucer giving away his not-quite-steady hand. With a final press of his foot, its weight and heat disappeared from Sid’s groin. Then Geno signaled the waitress.

“Can put cheesecake in go-box, please?” he asked, fishing inside his suit jacket pocket for his wallet and digging out his credit card. “Add extra slice for later. And if could hurry. Just remember have someplace to be.”


	14. Chapter 14 — mpreg

“Thank fuck I don’t have ovaries,” Sid said, a thread of seriousness underlying the humor.

“Why you say?” Geno asked, watching him with deceptively sleepy eyes. Sid knew that look, and the last thing it was in this moment was sleepy.

“The way you’re looking at me right now? _Boom_ — instant pregnancy,” Sid said, making a small explosion motion with one hand.

“What — you not want have my babies?” Geno asked. “Raise sweet little boy look like me, little girl look like you. Grow up, we use hockey sticks to fight off boys and girls from date.”

“I would love to have your children,” Sid blurted, his words outpacing his brain before he could press his lips shut. They’d never talked about this and Geno surely was joking, keeping up the joke Sid started. And now Sid had gone and made it serious. What if Geno didn’t even want kids? Or what if he did but didn’t want them with Sid?

“You mean?” Geno asked, his expression going from incendiary to soft in what would have been the blink of an eye had Sid not frozen the instant the sentence escaped his mouth. “You want have my babies?”

“Well, yeah,” Sid said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I mean, I don’t want to physically carry it around inside of me for nine months, and I’m pretty sure I’m happy to skip labor and delivery. But having them, raising them with you, watching them grow up? Yeah, I really do want that.”

“Me, too,” Geno said, smiling.

“Yeah?” Sid asked.

“Yeah,” Geno replied. “In fact, we should get start now. Just in case, you know, you do have ovaries. Or maybe I’m have ovaries. Maybe we do right, both be pregnant, have babies at same time.”

“I really don’t think either of us has ovaries,” Sid said, wrapping a hand around the back of Geno’s neck to pull him down into a kiss. “Or a uterus. But I’m definitely willing to try. Let’s go upstairs and you can try to put a baby in me.”


	15. Day 15 — sex toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gift that keeps on giving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woke up with an idea that should have taken me 75 words or less to write. And ... here we are. )))

OK, frankly? The box was huge. It wasn’t _refrigerator_ huge, but Sid already had a really nice refrigerator, so he wasn’t really expecting Geno to buy him one for Christmas. Still … it was a big box.

Sid carefully removed the wrapping paper, plucking at the tape and trying to peel it loose as gently as possible. It’s not that he wasn’t just as eager as Geno was to see his gift, but he liked to savor the moment, build the anticipation just a few seconds more. Being fussy about removing the wrapping allowed that far better than Geno’s haphazard method of finding a loose edge and ripping the paper free like he was removing a Band-Aid.

He set the paper aside and opened the box, unsure if he wanted to smile or groan when he looked inside and saw six, seven, eight — nope, there was another layer — 12 wrapped boxes in various sizes tucked inside. On top of the boxes was nestled a small mp3 player and earbuds with a very Christmasy-looking note that said “Play me”.

Sid grinned and raised a questioning eyebrow toward Geno. 

“Go on,” Geno said.

So Sid did as instructed, picking up the device and putting the earbuds in his ears. There was only one song, which pretty much answered his next question, so he hit play.

He made it through two verses of the Christmas carol before he hit pause and pulled out one of the earbuds so he could hear Geno.

“Is there a hidden message if I listen to all 12 verses or is this just the traditional song?” he asked.

“Is traditional song,” Geno said. “You don’t have listen to all. Is just to explain gifts.”

“Did you get me the ‘Twelve Days of Christmas’ gifts?” Sid asked, boggling a bit as he looked back at the contents of the box. “Is it even possible to fit all of that into a box. Well, boxes?”

“I’m not follow exact,” Geno said with a sheepish grin. “Tradition say you give all things every day. One partridge in pear tree, then two turtledoves, another partridge. That make 364 gifts. I’m just give you one of gifts for each day. So only 78. But …”

“You got me _78 gifts_?” Sid cut in. He’d been feeling pretty good about his gifts for Geno, the antique samovar that, in its own strange way, vaguely reminded Sid of the Cup; the Russian teas and jams he had asked Geno’s mom to send to go with the samovar; the lifesize Iceburgh stuffed toy that really would have required a refrigerator box to wrap if Sid hadn’t chosen simply to put a giant bow around its neck and tuck it in next to the tree. “I’m really going to have to step up my game for New Year’s.” 

“Is OK,” Geno said with an odd grin. “As long as you enjoy gifts, I’m enjoy. Just open. Here, start with this one.”

Geno handed Sid a box wrapped in paper with toy drums all over it. So, Day 12, maybe?

“It doesn’t look big enough to hold 12 drummers drumming,” Sid joked.

And … he wasn’t wrong. When he got the paper peeled away from the box and lifted the lid, it was to find 12 strands of anal beads in assorted lengths and sizes.

“Definitely not drummers,” he said, his dick twitching as the implications of the gift sunk in. “Though it could definitely inspire some” — he cleared his throat for show — “beating off”.

Geno snorted with laughter, even as he managed a “so bad, Sid; so bad”. 

“Thank you,” Sid said politely, like the good Canadian boy he was, when they’d finally stopped laughing. “Do we get to try it out later?”

“We see,” Geno said. “Here, this one next.”

The box Geno handed Sid next had a variety of musical instruments on it, intermingled with wreaths of holly. Sid spotted some flutes in the mix and assumed this was his gift for the 11th day — “pipers piping”.

He opened it to find butt plugs — yes, 11 of them, also in a range of sizes, shapes and materials, from silicone to metal to one thankfully sturdy-looking glass one.

“So … you got me 12 days of sex toys?!” Sid couldn’t decide whether to laugh or to crawl into Geno’s lap and ask to use one of them right there on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, carpet burns be damned.

“Maybe,” Geno said with a coy grin. “... Yes, OK. Maybe a bit extravagant, but figure also just as much gift for me, you know.”

Sid definitely needed to kiss Geno at that point and, after setting aside the second box, he proceeded to shift until he was straddling G’s thighs and leaned in for a deep, wet kiss that definitely threatened to derail the opening of gifts.

Still, his curiosity got the better of him and he reluctantly broke the kiss, adjusting his now well-on-the-way-to-interested dick as he shifted back to his own spot on the floor.

“Which one next?” he asked, being very deliberate as he looked at Geno’s crotch — he was definitely going commando under those sweatpants — and not-so-deliberately licking his lips before he managed to drag his eyes up to meet Geno’s.

By the time Sid had made it through unwrapping the pile of presents, he had an impressive collection of new sex toys, including:

12 strands of anal beads  
11 butt plugs  
10 tubes of Tenga lube  
9 pairs of panties  
8 prostate milkers  
7 vibrators (a six-pack of Tenga eggs and a Swan)  
6 Goose dildos  
5 five gold cock rings  
4 [Little Birds](https://www.wired.co.uk/article/sex-toy-kindle-little-bird)  
3 French ticklers  
2 nipple clamps  
and a pair of leather wrist cuffs

It wasn’t long before he also had one of the strands of anal beads — the 12-bead, purple heart-shaped set — in his ass and Geno’s dick in his mouth.


End file.
